


What Makes You Beautiful

by Featherbelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Image, F/M, Nightmares, Self-Doubt, memories of death of loved ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2323061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Featherbelle/pseuds/Featherbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine telling Sam that you don’t think you’re very attractive, so he walks you over to a mirror so he can point out everything he loves about you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Makes You Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 1403  
> Warnings: Self-doubt/crappy body image; nightmare; memory of death of loved ones

My eyes popped open and I sat up sharply, gasping for breath. I looked around the room to find bland white walls and standard cheap motel room style furnishings. Getting a handle on my breathing, I realized I’d had another nightmare about the night my family had been taken from me. I was not in my old living room, standing in the midst of flames, but here, in this cheap motel room, sleeping next to one of the men who had saved my life. My new boyfriend, Sam Winchester.

I glanced next to me to see him sprawled out next to me, his handsome face peaceful in sleep. The alarm clock on the bedside table read 4:15 AM. Swinging my legs out of the bed, I tiptoed over to where my bags were and quietly dug around for clean clothes. Then I slipped into the bathroom to take a quick shower, since the tossing and turning from the dream had gotten me sweaty and gross.

Closing the door behind me, I groaned and rolled my eyes. Did there  _have_  to be a damned full length mirror on the back of the door? What was the point? I sighed and turned my back to the glass monstrosity to strip out of my sleepwear. A creak behind me made me jump out of my skin and I had to bite down the shriek of alarm in my throat. I knew it could only be one of the boys – either my boyfriend Sam or his older brother Dean, but on the heels of that dream, I was a little nervous still. “Who is it?” I whispered, snatching a towel off the small shelf and wrapping myself in it.

“It’s Sam,” he said quietly. I opened the door and let him in. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Can’t sleep. Gonna take a shower, then maybe go out and grab some breakfast. I can start researching a case too, if you want,” I volunteered, too shy to meet his eyes in my near-naked state.

I hadn’t known the Winchester brothers very long…just about a year…but Sam knew me well enough by now to know I wasn’t telling the truth, or at least not all of it. He put his hands on my shoulders. “Baby, what’s the matter? You know you can tell me anything,” he said softly.

Closing my eyes briefly, I lifted my head until our eyes met. “I had a nightmare, Sam. Again.”

“The fire? The night we met?” he asked, sympathy brimming in his hazel eyes. He’d lost his mother and college girlfriend in fires. He knew that pain all too well.

“Yes,” I said, the memories of the heat and the flames closing my throat. I swallowed a few times and tried to speak again. “So, like I said, I don’t really wanna try to sleep anymore. Might as well get a jump on the day.”

“Okay…” he said softly. As he turned to leave, I said suddenly, “Sam…take that damned thing with you, would you?” I gestured to the mirror hanging on the door.

Sam gave me a confused look. “Why?”

“Because I don’t really want to look at myself any more than necessary. My body is too damn ugly, especially when it’s not even sunrise yet,” I said, frowning at the image staring back at me.

“What…the hell?” he asked, a stunned expression now covering his face.

He closed the door quietly and locked it. “Come here,” he said, tugging me into his arms. He turned us towards the hated piece of reflective glass and I snapped my eyes shut.

“Open your eyes. I want to show you how beautiful you are.” Sam’s tone was soft but insistent. With a sigh, I did as he asked, but I looked at his face in the mirror, my blue eyes locked on his hazel ones.

He had wrapped his arms loosely around me, and now one of his hands snaked up to cup my face. “You have such pretty eyes, Blossom,” he smiled at me. He had started calling me Blossom due to our mutual love of the movie Highlander, and that my given name is Heather, like Connor’s first wife. “And your freckles are so damn cute,” he said, tracing his finger gently underneath my eyes where a few were scattered.

His hand moved down, his rough calloused fingers ghosting down the soft sensitive skin of my inner arm and taking my hand in his. “Your hands are so small, so feminine. They fit so perfect in mine.”

That made me smile. “Sam…I’m half your size. So of course my hands are small.”

“Shush, I’m complimenting you. Keep quiet and listen till I’m done,” Sam said with a smile. “I like you like this…with no makeup. I know you like to wear it, and I’m not saying it doesn’t look good on you, but if I had my way…” he paused and his eyes bored into mine in the mirror. “If I had my way, the only color you’d ever wear is flushed pink.”

“Flushed pink? What color is that?” I asked, intrigued.

His eyes darkened to the color of whiskey and he leaned down until his lips were at my ear. His husky voice whispered, “The color my woman’s skin turns after I’ve made passionate love to her.”

I inhaled sharply at his words, vivid images of the last time he’d done that flashing in my mind. Sam knew it too, because he smiled wickedly at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, what about this?” I asked, dropping the towel and pinching the couple inches or so of flab at my stomach. “You can’t call that any kind of beautiful.” I was definitely  _not_ going to get into how my breasts were two different sizes, the larger one saggy as hell, because I’d breastfed my kids.

“The hell I can’t,” he snapped. “Your daughter was six months old. And she was the youngest. This,” he said, running his hand softly over my baggy tummy, “is proof of the most beautiful thing a woman can do. It’s friggin’ awesome, as Dean would say. And speaking of Dean…do you know how many times the three of us have been in bars after hunts and both he and I have nearly come to blows with guys over you?”

“What?” I sputtered.

“Yeah. I’ve lost count of how many times some half-drunk asshole has come up to me or to Dean asking if it was okay if they danced with our ‘sister’ because ‘she’s hot’.”

My jaw dropped. “And what did you two say or do?”

“Well, if it was me they were asking, I flat out said no, because you were _my_ girl. Somehow Dean always ends up with the persistent ones.”

“Persistent how?” Knowing Dean as I did, I knew this couldn’t be good.

“Well, he’d tell them no, that you were his brother’s girl, but they were drunk, so none of them ever listened. You know… ‘oh just one dance’…Dean would have to shut them up with his fists usually,” Sam grinned, thoroughly enjoying telling me all this.

I smirked at him. “I get what you’re saying, Sam, really I do, drunk asshats aside, but the excess weight doesn’t help me when I’m out on a hunt with you and Dean. I’m not in very good shape either. That’s going to get me killed one of these days. I’d rather keep the stretch marks, salt and burn the flab and be able to be the best help to you and Dean that I can be.”

“I’ll help you with that, if you want,” he smiled at me. “You know I work out a lot.” 

“What…you’ll be my personal trainer?” I said, biting down the laughter that threatened to burst from my lips.

“Yes, if that will make you feel better.”

“Okay, Sam. You just got yourself an exercise buddy.” The smile on his lips stretched to his eyes.

“So…are you done? Can I take a shower now?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Depends,” he smirked back.

“On what?”

“Can I join you?”

“Why?” I asked, frowning at him.

“So I can continue my appreciation of your beautiful body,” he said, his eyes turning whiskey-colored again, his voice dark and rough.

I understood exactly what his intention was, and I was all for him to continue his appreciative lecture. “By all means.”

 


End file.
